A Kiss Goodnight
by meetmeinstlouie
Summary: After their engagement, all Mrs. Hughes wants is a kiss from Mr. Carson. But even she could not guess how much he wanted to kiss her back. This is Season 6 dreamland. UPDATE: The last chapter is up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Inspired by certain pictures and several seconds of video from Tumblr. Please be kind, I've never tried to write like this. I woke up at 3 am today (Saturday) with this in my head.**

The conversation had been all awkwardness (when had they ever been able to speak of their feelings without it?), but necessary. She had been terribly embarrassed that Mrs. Patmore, of all people, had had to encourage them to speak of it to each other. Hours later, after dinner upstairs, she could not think of it without her heart beating wildly and her face aflame.

He tried to ignore the whispering in the servants' hall, the side looks when they thought he didn't notice. At times it felt unbearable to know that the staff all were speculating about the _real_ nature of their relationship. It was a relief when the evening was over, his Lordship had gone to bed, and he could lock up for the night.

She still sat working. The dinner party next week, although not on a scale as before, still commanded details to be finalized. Mr. Talbot would be attending, so Lady Mary of course had spoken to Mr. Carson. She sighed, shaking her head. She hoped that the woman would someday realize that the Butler now had priorities other than her own. To his great credit, he had tried to explain to her. But the eldest daughter of the house still seemed to be in a bit of denial that Mr. Carson was actually engaged to be married.

He knocked on her door and poked his head in. "Will you be much later? I've locked up," he took in the welcome sight of his fiancée when she turned in her chair. "You should go to bed. It's very late, I don't want you overworking yourself."

She smiled at his worry. "I'm finished here. I'm just going up now." She rose from her desk and switched the light off before joining him in the empty hall. "I'm sorry we missed our evening sherry."

He brushed off the apology. "Don't trouble yourself. It's been a long day-" he leaned over to whisper in her ear as they approached the stairs- "-though I did miss spending my evening with you."

Blushing, she was glad of the dim light. "I missed you, as well." The backs of their hands brushed against each other, but neither moved apart. They stood for a moment at the bottom of the stairs. She was sure he could hear her heart beating. Ever since their engagement, a small part of her hoped that he would kiss her. The most that had happened so far were a few moments of hand-holding over a drink. He had always been first to pull away.

He stood and looked down at her. He wanted to-but what if she didn't? He was terrified of impropriety. And after that agonizing conversation earlier, it seemed all the harder to behave. It was one thing to know that she looked forward to being his wife in _that_ way. But they were not yet married. There were still standards that had to be maintained. He cleared his throat, looking somewhere over her right shoulder. His resolve would not last if he continued to hold her gaze.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Hughes," he whispered. "Pleasant dreams."

Her shoulders slumped. Really, how could she think he would change? But it was really quite infuriating that even a simple peck on the cheek was beyond him.

"Goodnight, Mr. Carson," she said, a slight wobble in her voice. "Sleep well." She started up the stairs, but to her surprise she had only climbed two when he took her hand.

It was pure instinct. The moment he saw the disappointment in her face, he knew what she wanted. He could never bear to be in disagreement with her. But what made him grab her hand was something that, until their engagement, he had barely let himself remember.

He was a man. Not the Butler. And she was a woman. Not the Housekeeper.

Propriety be damned.

"Mr. Carson?" She whispered, turning on the stair. As she stood above him, their heads were nearly level. He held her hand, and her gaze. Without dropping either, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her bare knuckles.

His touch went straight from her hand into her center. A hitch in her breath, a gasp, escaped from her. She took one step down, more to keep her knees from giving out than anything. His eyes still on hers, he turned her hand over.

He then pressed his lips to her wrist.

An audible moan echoed through the downstairs. He reached out with his left hand and grasped her waist.

She was glad of his support. Her legs felt as weak as water. She cautiously stretched out her left hand, and rested it on his shoulder. He kissed her wrist again, keeping his lips on her skin as she let out another moan, a soft _oh_ , gripping his shoulder tighter. He looked up from her arm, a silent plea in his eyes.

"Mrs. Hughes, may I-"

"Yes." A ghost of a whisper carried to his ear the only word he wanted to hear. Her eyes were dark. He leaned forward, feeling her hand drift across his shoulder to the back of his neck. He almost came undone at the touch of her fingers at the base of his scalp.

He licked his lips without thinking, before pressing them to hers. He kissed her softly, slowly, gently. Her other hand untangled itself from his and joined its sister, pulling him closer to her. Somehow both of his hands had slid down and caressed her back.

His kisses drove her wild. She leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body through his coat. She ran her fingers into his hair. When he pulled away for a moment to catch a breath, she kissed him full on the mouth. He groaned into hers before leaving to kiss along her jawbone. He nipped her earlobe, and she gasped aloud at the sensation.

She thought for certain that he would stop then. Instead, with a quick glance to make sure she was all right, he then bent his head. His eyes were dark, the color of the night. He pressed his soft lips to the side of her neck.

He should stop. He _knew_ he should stop. But the sighs and soft moans and gasps that she was making made it impossible to stop. _We shouldn't be doing this, not here, not now, it's not proper, yes we should, yes, we should, we should have done this years ago, yes, oh God, yes, woman, what you do to me-_

She wondered vaguely if this was what dying felt like. Or maybe this was living, and she had never lived until now. All she could do was hang onto him, her breathing erratic, her heart dancing a wild reel. _We shouldn't, we shouldn't, we must stop, oh God, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop my man, please don't stop, yes, yes-_

A distant sound forced them apart. A reminder that they were not alone in this vast house. Her hands were still clasped behind his neck, while his held her hips. He sighed against her neck, his breath warm. He slowly pulled himself away, but gently held her hands. A light glimmered in his eyes, and no, her eyes did not deceive her. A rather roguish smile played on his lips. She laughed shakily, her heart thrumming. He pulled a hand to his lips and kissed it again. Chaste.

He looked down, their fingers moving together. He shook his head, a short burst of laughter coming from his lips.

"What is it?" she asked. Her voice sounded different to her, deeper. She touched his forehead, his temple. He kissed her hand again.

"Nothing." He almost looked as before. Afraid.

"Tell me," she said, still stroking his face. "Please."

He took a deep, shuddering breath, like that day at the beach. "I love you."

Her heart felt as though it would burst. Biting her lip to keep from weeping, she looked at him with shining eyes as a tear dangled in one corner. "I love you," she breathed.

Nothing that she had ever said, not even when she accepted his proposal, meant more to him. He kissed her once more on the lips. It lingered long and slow. "Good night, my love," he whispered as it ended. "Have pleasant dreams."

She laughed and wiped the corner of her eye. "I certainly will, Mr. Carson. Good night." She gave him one last, loving glance before turning to finally climb the stairs. He smiled as she stumbled twice before finding her footing.

She had to hold onto the railing to keep her balance. Her entire body hummed with the memory of his touch. Yes, she knew exactly what she would dream about.

After ascending the stairs after her, he stood for a brief moment at the top. "She loves me," he whispered to the Abbey. He then turned off the last light and went to bed, remembering the kisses of the woman he loved.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Ask, and ye shall receive. Someone asked for more, so here it is. I hope it's not too confusing with the flashback. Also, I really tried to keep this T, but I'm not sure, so am making it M. Part of me wondered if they would be this free with each other, considering their restraint, but this is post-wedding, so...everything's out there. I think once they're married they'll be even more relaxed with each other.**

For once, he woke slowly. He was not sure for a moment where he was. There was greater light than he was accustomed to, and he certainly could not remember ever sleeping without clothes on. O _h._

Her bare shoulders, hidden only partially by the sheet, rose and fell as she slept. He blinked. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed a pattern of freckles sprinkled down her spine. He had not seen that last night.

She was even more beautiful this morning.

Maybe he had never seen her properly until now. _I thought you'd_ _ **never**_ _ask._

He could not resist. Moving as quietly as he dared, he leaned over her sleeping form and kissed her on the cheek. He then touched her hair. It was a lighter color spread out, more of a soft auburn, than he remembered.

 _He had thought his fingers too big, fumbling with the pins. But he had unbound her hair at last. It was a marvel; she was transformed_ _._

 _No._

 _The transformation had happened earlier in the day, when they stood in front of the people they loved and promised themselves to each other._

His kiss woke her. She did not move, content to breathe evenly in the quiet room. She felt his fingers in her hair and closed her eyes again. His touch. Oh, how she had longed for it, ached for it.

Now she would have it, always.

 _He had been so nervous. Never, not when he proposed, nor on the memorable night when they kissed on the stairs at the Abbey, could he recall such inner turmoil. He had hardly known how to begin. If it had been left to him alone, no doubt they would have still been standing in the room, wearing their traveling clothes._

 _She took the first step. After calmly sitting in the chair and removing her shoes and hat, she had shaken her head, biting back a laugh._

" _What's so funny?" He, old booby, that he was, was inclined to be angry. She had risen from the chair and enveloped him in an enormous hug. He never would have believed that someone so much smaller than he could hold him so firmly in her arms. Her boldness gave him courage. He then had worked at the pins and brushed the hair from her neck with his fingers before kissing below her ear._

 _The touch of his lips had made her gasp. She had had a time undoing the gold studs, his collar and tie, and his shirt. It was made all the more difficult with her shaking hands that had betrayed her nerves. The first time she had touched his bare chest, he had placed his hand over hers, holding it in that spot. Then he kissed her until her lips were swollen and her knees gave out._

 _It had been a test of his iron self-restraint. Not that she made it easy for him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, scare her. But when the thousand buttons had been undone, and she stepped out of her dress, she had pulled him to her with a force that surprised him. Her hands had roamed his back, then headed south of his waist. Her tongue inside his mouth had demolished his last resistance. He could not remember the removal of the rest of their clothing (his or hers). Mere moments later, they had both been in the bed._

 _As before, she had felt almost like she had gone mad. She could not kiss him enough, touch him enough. He was hers at last, and she was his. But unlike before, there was no one and nothing that would stop them._

 _No more inconvenient knocking on doors or bells ringing, she had thought deliriously as his lips explored her collarbone. No one to come around the corner at the wrong moment._

 _He had lavished kisses on her breasts, her belly, her thighs. He had paid extra attention to a certain scar that, even in the heat of the moment, brought a rush of emotion. The taste of her skin under him, her voice crying out with his Christian name and Gaelic words he could only guess the meaning of, hastened his movement_ _._ _Their bodies had joined several times before they finally felt satisfied_ _._ _She had cried once in his arms, overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside her._

He felt a tear slide down his own face. The scar on her breast reminded him all too keenly of the time when he thought that he would lose her. But she was here now. Blissfully alive. They were man and wife, in body as well as in law. He sang under his breath, "Dashing away with a smoothing iron, she stole my heart away…"

She laughed, her body vibrating. That day in the hall when she heard him singing, when she knew, she _knew_ he loved her.

"I didn't know you were awake," he rumbled, gathering her into his arms and kissing her neck.

"Only just now," she said. She pulled on the sheet to cover her as she turned over to face him. "It must be past ten o'clock." His lips brushed her forehead.

"Why do you cover up? I'm not," he said, kicking the heavier blanket away. Everything except his feet was visible. He was genuinely curious. "This room is rather warm."

She sat up, pulling the sheet with her, as a blush spread across her face and neck. "It's morning now." She bit her lip. "Last night was…different. It was dark then."

Amusement danced across his face as he watched his bride. "You do know," he said, his eyebrows wagging, "We're married now. I always thought _I_ would be the puritanical one," he teased gently. He stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"I'm not young anymore, Charles," she whispered. She felt it, too. In the light of day she was all too aware of her wrinkles, the parts of her body that were not as smooth as when she was a girl. He pulled her chin in his direction with his fingers.

"Neither am I. We're not _old_ either," he said gently. "Do you not think you are beautiful?"

"It's not that," she said. "I-I'd rather you have an image in your mind. I wouldn't want to disappoint you."

" _Disappoint_ me? How could you ever do that?" he sat up, his shoulder rubbing hers. "Do you remember what everyone was saying yesterday? Not just Mrs. Patmore and Anna and everyone downstairs." His voice was soft, but the tone of the Butler was creeping in. "Everyone I spoke to said you were the most beautiful bride they had ever seen. The Dowager Countess, Mrs. Crawley, His Lordship, Lady Mary-"

She rolled her eyes while simultaneously fighting back a smile.

"They all raved about you. But if you won't listen to them," he growled, "listen to me, Mrs. Carson."

It was the first time he had addressed her as such. Her vision blurred.

"You could never disappoint me. And I don't want an image." He wrapped an arm around her. "I want you. I only ever want you, love." He tucked her head under his chin, stroking her hair.

How could she fight him when he was like that? She wiped her eyes, then kissed him on the mouth. While her hands razed through his already wild hair, he slipped the sheet down around her ankles. As they caught their breath, he dropped his gaze, taking in every visible part of her. She felt her skin grow warm again. Not just because he seemed to be devouring her with his eyes, but because she was doing the same to him. Including – her breath hitched – the part of him that had joined them last night.

"Oh my," she said, without thinking. Red could not begin to describe the color of her face.

"Hmmm?" he murmured, kissing her jaw, not noticing her mortification.

She had not been brought up in a sack, but it was a shock. "Um, not-nothing," she stuttered.

He looked up. "You look surprised," he smiled, dropping a lingering kiss on her shoulder.

"That's putting it mildly," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"Do you wish you had an image of me? Or does the reality disappoint you? I am rather round in the belly," he said, suddenly looking worried. She shook her head, running her finger along the stubble on his chin.

"I am _not_ disappointed. Quite the contrary," she swallowed. "It's just new to me, seeing all of you. Until yesterday, I had never even seen your bare feet. And I rather like your round belly," she nudged him playfully. He gave a theatrical sigh and flopped back onto his back.

"So I don't need to go ask Lady Mary for a second opinion? What a relief," he joked. He reached out and grasped her hand, kissing her fingers. She shivered.

"We ought to get dressed. You must be famished."

"I am," he said, his lips winding their way up her arm. She tried to pull away, but he only gripped harder.

"Charles Carson, I am serious."

"So am I. Unless you _really_ want me to stop, my love." He quirked a rascally grin at her, then leaned her back against the pillows.

"No," she sighed, running her hands across his broad back. "Only promise me one thing."

"What is that?" he kissed the finger where he had placed the ring the day before.

"I never want to hear Lady Mary's name – or anyone else's, for that matter – in our bed. Ever again."

He nodded solemnly before kissing the tip of her finger. "I promise."

It was well after noon before they dressed.

 **oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

 **The first chapter was Season 6 Dreamland; this is pure fantasy. I realized after I'd written it that they have an entire conversation naked. Yeah, that's not going to happen. There's one more part to this story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is the last chapter. I own nothing. They're fully clothed in this one, so I hope it's not too disappointing. :)**

The tea shop was pleasantly busy. They sat along the window, with a nice view of the main thoroughfare. Elsie sighed happily as she enjoyed a second cup of tea. She raised her eyebrows at her husband, who was busy devouring his fifth scone.

"You could slow down a little…the staff here will think I don't feed you!"

He swallowed, leaving an adorable bit of cream on his face. "If anyone asks," he said, his eyes twinkling, "I'll tell them I skipped breakfast. And luncheon. Which, as you well know, is true." She blushed and reached across the table, wiping his cheek with her thumb. He smiled at her touch.

"I wonder what they would think of that." She sighed. "Oh well, we're already the subjects of gossip." She gave him a bold grin and licked her finger clean.

"Oh?" he managed to choke. He was grateful for the table between them. He followed her line of sight across the room. A young couple stared at them from a neighboring table. They quickly looked away when they realized the Carsons had caught them.

"They probably think an old couple like us has no business carrying on in public," Elsie said under her breath. "And they'd be right." She knew they weren't back at the hotel, and yet, she couldn't stop herself from making eyes at Charles. Nor did she care. Much. _We've wasted so much time_.

"We're not old. More likely, they wonder how a gorgeous woman like you ended up with an old booby like me," he smiled, his hand on hers. He hoped she wasn't thinking ill of herself. Her bottom lip was still visible, so that was a good sign. He leaned across the table and gave her a kiss. "I'm glad you did, though."

"Charles, we shouldn't," she protested, even as she longed for his kiss. The Housekeeper in her glared at the impropriety; as a wife, he could have ravished her in the middle of the shop and she would have welcomed it. When in public, she felt as though two halves of her were at war. The young couple got up and left without another glance.

He wiped his hands on his napkin. "Normally, I would agree with you. But we're in Brighton, where no one knows us."

"True. But still." He got up to pay their bill and came back to the table to pull out her chair, looking pleased.

"They only charged for the first cup of tea, the cake and three scones. I tried to argue, but the shop owner said the rest was a gift from him and his wife. He said they enjoyed having me and 'your beautiful wife'". He helped her into her coat, a smug look on his face.

She laughed. "That was nice of them. We'll have to come back tomorrow. Don't tell Mrs. Patmore, but those crescent sandwiches were the best I've ever tasted." He held the door open as they exited outside.

"I would never dream of betraying your confidence. And especially not with something that would result in me being chased out of the kitchen by a flying frying pan!" He laughed and pulled her arm through his.

She leaned against him, relishing the feel of his sleeve beneath her hand. "I know how hungry you were. Are you sure you had enough?"

"Of you? Never," he breathed, his breath tickling the back of her ear.

"Get away with you…" she shook her head as they continued down the street. As they approached the end, the sea gleamed between the buildings.

He looked down at his wife, who was blissfully staring out at the water. _If only I had had the courage years ago, we could have had more memories like this_.

"Elsie, would you like to go down to the beach?" He planted a kiss on her cheek.

"I would indeed! Although, you know Mr. Carson," she teased, "Your trousers may get wet."

"I'll risk it," he said, delighted that she was so excited. He was excited himself. They made their way down to the pier, then found a secluded spot on the sand. The sun was low. Few people were about at this hour. He worried that they would not have enough time before all the light was gone. "I'm sorry we didn't come down earlier. The reservation for dinner means we won't be able to stay long."

"Don't be sorry," she said. She fingered his sleeve as he removed his shoes and socks, having already removed her own things. "I had a good time this morning, and, well, this afternoon as well." She ran her hand down his arm. He gulped, as she gave him a dazzling smile. They held hands and walked into the water.

"Oooohhhh, this is a wee bit colder than I thought it would be," she laughed, squeezing his hand. "I don't mind, do you?" She took another step and almost lost her balance. He quickly caught her against his side.

"There now," he rumbled. "You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady." He took her other hand, just for good measure.

She bit her lip, laughing at her own clumsiness. Looking across the water, she almost felt teary thinking about how far they had come since their last visit. "Wiser words were never spoken," she said softly. "As well as a little risqué." A warm smile lit his face.

"A husband is allowed to be risqué with his wife," he murmured. His lips touched hers as his hands found her waist. She clung to him as the water swirled around their ankles. Within moments, she was not cold at all. His mouth moved over hers, his teeth nipped at her lip. She moaned.

They were oblivious to everything else until the sun was undoubtedly setting. With reluctance, they splashed out of the water and back to their abandoned shoes.

"Oh dear," he said, attempting unsuccessfully to get the sand off of his legs. "I'm afraid dinner will be uncomfortable. Your-"

"Shhhh!" Elsie whispered suddenly. "We're not alone."

Charles glanced in the direction of the pier. He could just make out two figures walking close by. A female giggle drifted their way. His eyebrows furrowed.

"What the devil-"

Elsie squeezed his arm, handing him his socks. He pulled them on, trying not to hear the nearby conversation. The others seemed to have no idea anyone else was nearby.

"…it's a lovely view, isn't it?" The woman leaned against her companion.

"Not as lovely as you," The man leaned over and kissed her.

Elsie's mouth dropped open. She finished putting her shoes on, and gestured to Charles. He shook his head, not understanding.

 _It's the couple from the shop,_ she mouthed at him. His eyes widened. They tried to move away, but the only way back up to the street was right past them. Considering their passionate activity, it was a tenuous prospect at best to move past them without being noticed.

"Harry," the young woman gasped as they broke apart, "I love you. Thank you so much for bringing me here. I fell in love with you, right there on the beach."

"I remember," Harry said. "It was the first time I'd ever held your hand. I was so nervous." They hugged, laughing quietly. To Charles's disappointment, they still did not move.

"I couldn't think of a better place to spend our honeymoon than here," Harry continued. "And after this afternoon, at the tea shop, it seems rather poetic, doesn't it?"

"The way they talked to each other, it was like they were two halves of the same coin." His wife sighed. "It was so romantic. She looked at her husband like they'd only been married for a week, not for years!"

"And him," Harry agreed. "Every movement they made mirrored the other."

"Do you think we'll be like that?"

"I certainly hope so. Emma, do you remember what your dad said before the wedding? Love takes time, we'll learn about each other as the years go on. You don't just go into marriage knowing everything."

"I'm glad you listened to him," Emma laughed. "That's what I liked about them. They've learned about each other, grown together." Her voice grew quieter. "I'm sure they've had their good times as well as the bad. Watched their children grow up."

"If we love each other half as much in thirty years as they do, we'll be the envy of everyone around us." Harry said. They finally walked away. The only sound was the waves crashing on the beach.

Charles found Elsie's hand in the dark. Neither one moved.

He thought about William, standing in the servant's hall in his uniform. Lady Sybil in the kitchen, baking a cake. She thought about Thomas, who took a beating for James's sake. Tom Branson, who created an impossible bridge. He felt tears dripping off of his chin as he remembered Lady Mary coming down the stairs to marry Mr. Matthew. And Daisy, climbing the stairs to her wedding. She wept as she remembered Anna's terror and shame, then the pride she had watching her come back to life. Ethel's heartbreak, and her resilience.

Gwen. Alfred. Lady Edith. Mr. Bates. Footmen and ladies, heirs and maids. Joy and sorrow. _We've weathered the storm. Together. We haven't wasted time. We've been collecting memories._

They walked slowly down the street again. The lights were on in the windows. Charles broke the silence.

"He's right, you know. We've grown together over time."

"I know," she whispered, her voice wobbly. "And…and watched our children grow up." A lump rose in his throat.

"And now the grandchildren."

"Yes," she laughed through a sob, thinking particularly of Miss Sybbie. "We've had a good life together, you and I."

He put his arm around her, holding her tight. "And we have a good many years together in the future."

She gave him a squeeze back. "Let's enjoy them, shall we?"

"Always, Mrs. Carson." They kissed under a street lamp as the first stars appeared in the evening sky.

 **The End.**


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